Fire Inside
by janya.wrote.nightrose
Summary: Sometimes, magic touches normal lives. Sometimes, happy endings are possible. Sometimes, the one person we want most sees the fire inside us. Kim's life is a disaster- the bleak and average kind of disaster. She has one perfect dream- and it comes true R
1. Chapter 1

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I pull the pillow back on top of my head. It doesn't muffle the tears quite enough. Why do I always cry when I'm angry? It's so _embarrassing. _I am _trying _to make a point here. I was _supposed_ to stalk out of the kitchen with my bruised dignity apparently intact.

Unfortunately, I only made it three steps up the stairs when I broke down. Now I'm sobbing loud enough that everyone in Washington can probably hear me. How totally humiliating.

I'm not supposed to cry. It pisses Mom off- she's always going on and on about how I'm supposed to be a _strong woman. _She doesn't get that that's just not who I am. I'm not the kind of person who stands up for themselves. I have like no self-esteem. Seriously, zero. I base my self-worth entirely on other people's approval and _I'm okay with that. _I have no intention of changing. I doubt I could.

My name is Kimberly Lakesend. Call me Kim, please. I'm a nice girl, quiet, shy, smart. Very smart- I have the highest grade point average at the school. I'm the best setter on the volleyball team. I'm in the state Honors Choir and I've already been accepted to a really good college. But that's apparently not enough. _Nothing's ever enough._

My mother is a perfectionist, but she isn't like those crazy soccer moms who are always pushing their kids to be good athletes or the weird wannabe best buds who take their ten year olds for makeovers.

No, my mom is all of them put together. I have to be good at _everything all the time. _Right now, she's threatening to take my iPod away. Why? Because I don't have a boyfriend.

Wait… what? Aren't moms not supposed to want their daughters to date until they're like… a hundred and five? Isn't that how it works?

Yeah. _But, _she thinks I should be getting asked out by a different hottie every other day, apparently. I don't 'devote enough time to my personal appearance', and that's why no one's interested in me. I've tried to explain more than once that I'm not pretty, I was _born _not pretty, and that's simply the way I am. All the makeup in the world can't change that, not that I've ever worn any.

So she says no music for me until I 'uphold the basic standards of personal grooming' she sets for me. She really doesn't understand how important it is, hearing—just hearing—stories about how beautiful and _exciting _life can be, when my own is so drab. She doesn't get it. And so I'm in my room, sulking, crying hysterically, and trying to decide whether I'm heartbroken, insecure, or _really, really pissed off. _

I squeeze the pillow back over my head. Then I gasp in another deep breath, stand up, and walk downstairs. Mom is sitting on the couch, her knees crossed, and her hand on one of them, the exact same position she was in twenty minutes ago when I left. My dad's joined her, and he's looking rather stern. Apparently he's gotten Mom's version of events.

Great.

"I changed my mind," I say in the most perfect monotone I can manage. "I'll go to Port Angeles, shopping with you, on Saturday. Can I have my iPod back now?"

"You made the right decision," she says, smiling. "I'm so proud of you."

I smile. Sort of.

"Now, didn't I tell you…"

"Jen, really. Don't gloat, darling," Dad interjects. I smile gratefully at him and he grins back.

"All right. Well, try to clear off your busy social calendar, Kimberly, would you? Make some time for your mom. It won't be so bad."

"Sure."

I walk upstairs slowly. The thing is, I don't hate my parents. It'd be so much easier if they were just awful and impossible. But I don't hate them. I love them and I honestly want their approval.

But I never seem to get it.

What a ridiculous thing to fight about. Boys? Like I care about boys.

In the plural, at least.

I grumble to myself and pluck my diary off the shelf. I carefully ignore _certain pages _and then turn to the newest blank one. I write the incident down and flip back through the pages, trying not to look at the beginning again.

I sneak one glance.

_Mrs. Jared Tajeva._

I slam the book shut.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Speak of the devil, and the devil shall disappear mysteriously from school for way too long.

Wait, what?

Jared's been out for six consecutive school days. I have a little tally in the corner of my diary, right under the place where I've written _Jared and Kim forever _eight hundred times.

Yes, it's embarrassing. Scratch that, it's humiliating. I'm not usually the kind of girl who gets giant whopper monster crushes like this. I've been mostly neutral to the male species as a whole my entire life. I liked a couple of guys in junior high, sure, but it was nothing like this.

This incapacitating, aching, painful obsession. I can't breathe when he's in the same room. I can't breathe when he's not in the same room. I can't stop thinking about him. Every thought I have that isn't directly related to him I find some way to bring back to him.

I'm walking down the football field after school, for instance, and I remember that Jared's friend Paul is on the football team. I'm in the library doing my homework when I catch sight of a novel called _Rainbow Boys, _and I remember the kid in front of him teasing Jared for reading a book about gay teenagers. I'm at home in my room, painting my fingernails as per my orders, and I remember Jared saying something about how just because Leah Clearwater got her nails done at that little place in Port Angeles doesn't necessarily mean she's back on the market, since she and Sam have been going out for like five years, and Paul really needs to keep his raunchy hands to himself.

I think I need professional help at this point. It's become deeply unhealthy. I can't think of _anything else. _I manage not to talk about it too much, though I've mentioned it to my girlfriends once or twice. I'm pretty sure my parents have absolutely no idea. Not that they pay any attention to me anyway. When I'm not fulfilling their overwhelming expectations they pretty much ignore me all the time.

Fine with me, really. I'd rather sit in my room with the music turned up all the way in my ears and doodle absentmindedly on a sheet of notebook paper than have them actually care whether I live or die.

I might be too hard on them. They really do think they do what's best for me. Even if it's frustrating and humiliating and saddening and all that stuff.

I rip the piece of paper in half and grimace. Then I flop backwards on the bed, closing my eyes.

I really wish Jared would come back to school. It's so much easier to be ludicrously possessed with him if he's right there for me to ogle insanely while he isn't looking. Seriously, staring at his yearbook picture is so much less satisfying.

I do it anyway. I have his signature, right there. It says, _HAGS, Jared._

Probably the least satisfying note ever. How about, _Eternal love and devotion, Jared?_

That'd be great.

Then again, it's not very likely. He's never going to notice I exist. I should just get used to that now.

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	3. Chapter 3

**sorry for the wait, everyone. i have good reasons, but i'm not going to go into them here. i really apologize. **

I'm in class, counting down the time. Nine days, twenty-three hours, eight minutes, and seventeen seconds. Nine days, twenty-three hours, eight mintes, and eighteen seconds. Nine days…

I wish Jared would come back. Staring at him is a _lot _more satisfying than staring at his empty chair or the clock.

And just then, my wish comes true. Well, part of it, anyway. The rest of it involves him falling hopelessly in love with me, but that's not exactly going to happen.

The door opens, and I swear I can hear trumpets in the distance.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, Jared Tajeva. _

He strides in confidently.

Wow, he looks different. Take this from the girl who likes to spend her free time ogling him. His face has lost its roundness, sharpening into defined planes. His body is taller and wider, and his hair, his long, beautiful, hair, is completely cut off, almost shaved. I mourn it for only a split second, and then I'm distracted by his new muscles.

So I've been basically in love with this guy for years. I always thought he was gorgeous, not to mention _beyond _out of my league, but that was before he came back with the body of a professional football player. Only somehow sleeker, faster-looking.

He was always wonderful, but now he's perfect. Only one thing is missing. His easy smile, white teeth flashing against dark skin, is gone. In its place is a strange expression of complete calm, a total absence of emotion as he hands the teacher a pass. She doesn't look too happy to see him, since after all he has been gone for nine days and is now eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds late for class. However, he doesn't even seem to register this fact. His matter is incredibly businesslike as he hands over the yellow slip of paper for her signature, collects his bundle of make-up work, and walks slowly to the seat _directly in front of me._

_ Oh my God._

I listen to the sound my heart makes as it stops beating and then picks up double-speed. He's close enough to touch, now. It feels like a miracle, that after all this time he's in hand's reach. I can see the short hairs bristle on the back of his head. I watch the tendons in his neck bob as he swallows. I notice his fist balling up and uncurling underneath the desk.

That's weird. Jared never had a temper before.

I shrug it off and go back to my fantasies, pulling out my diary and hiding it in my notebook for this class.

I'm writing, again and again, _Missed you so much, Jared, _and wondering if I'll ever have the guts to put it on his desk.

Finally, I swallow deeply, rip out the perfect piece- not too ornately written, but not sloppy, either. It says just, "Glad you're feeling better, Jared."

I flick it onto the edge of his desk. For once, I actually aim right. I'm not usually athletically inclined beyond volleyball.

He opens the note almost instantly, without glancing at it, as though he's heard it land. Is that possible? I couldn't hear the impact.

The folds are undone quickly by his big, deft hands.

He reads the words. I can see him move his head a little as he scans from left to right on the paper.

His fist clenches.

Is he angry? Why? He seems to have sprouted a temper while he was out. I guess it makes sense he doesn't want Kim, perpetual failure, stalking him.

I freeze.

And then he turns around.

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	4. Chapter 4

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For a moment, he stares at me. It's like his eyes are devouring me, almost scary, in fact. His jaw goes slack, his mouth is hanging open, his twitching hands become perfectly, completely still against the desk, flat, while his eyes… glued to mine, boring into my eyes, my _heart, my soul, _as he stares at me.

And then, while I listen to the sound of my heart beating faster and faster, he starts to speak.

It sounds odd, like it's coming from a great distance. He's whispering, since class is in session, but there's more to it than that. It's as though he's having trouble finding his own voice. "Heh… hey," he stutters.

"Hi." I blush a little. I don't think he's ever actually spoken to me before this moment. That's kind of sad. Of course I've heard his voice, from eavesdropping on his conversations and stuff, but he's never actually addressed me.

"Um, that was…" he stops, blushes. It looks strange on his strong face. Weird, that he's awkward around me. Not that I don't feel the same way, but obviously he doesn't care what I think. "… really nice of you. Thanks."

My turn to stutter. "Thank… I mean, you're welcome, Jared."

His eyes widen even further. It's remarkable. I feel like I'm drowning in the look he's giving me. It's everywhere, everything, and it's all for me. Does he always stare like this, at everyone? I don't think I've seen him do it before… "You… I'm sorry," he whispers. "I don't know your name."

I try not to wince. After all, there's no reason to suspect he knows me. Except that I've been in every single class with him since the day we started school, of course.

Well, no one really knows me. I'm pretty much a shadow in my own life. Just because I'm totally in love with him shouldn't make him any different, I guess.

"Kim," I say softly, and my voice breaks a little. On one syllable- anyone else think that's pretty impressive.

"Kim," he repeats. It sounds like a prayer. Like a song.

"Kimberly Lakesend, technically, but, seriously, don't call me that."

He nods, his head moving, but not his eyes. They remain trained on mine. He says again, "Kim."

"Lakesend! Tajeva! If you wouldn't mind, could I have your attention?" the teacher shrills. Jared makes a face as though he would mind, he'd mind very much, and I can't say I completely disagree with that, but I do have to keep my grades up, or else my mom will kill me and I'll never get to tell Jared I love him.

Or find out what the heck that was. I place a finger over my lips, hushing him, and his face goes slack in defeat, like he can't even try to argue with me. He turns to face forward.

Well, _I'm _confused. He's never paid me any attention before—he didn't even know my name—and now he's staring at me like _he's _the creepy stalker out of the two of us. Not that I particularly object, but it totally bewilders me.

I don't hear a word of the next forty-five minutes of class. I sit there, with my notebook open, doodling little hearts and writing "J and K" inside. I don't even do it consciously. It's just a habit. A _nervous _habit.

I'm pretty nervous right now. After all, this is an awful lot like my daydreams, but they're daydreams for a reason. This really isn't that _likely. _More believable is that he and Paul made a bet or his flu left him desperate for sex or something.

Whatever. If that's the only reason he's paying attention to me, I'll enjoy it while it lasts and deal with how much it's going to suck later. I'm pretty good at that, by now. I smile and feel loved whenever my mom's actually nice to me and then pretend it's not worse the next time she freaks over nothing.

It's basically my whole life. I'm used to it, and I'm going to make myself believe it won't be a hundred times worse when _Jared _does it too.

My beautiful, perfect Jared. I adore him so completely. When he betrays me, I'm going to have to find someone else to be obsessed with. It'll be too painful to stare at him when he breaks my heart.

And I know he will.

I'm in love with him, in a remarkably real way. Even though he's never given me a single word before, I fell for him just by staring at him. I made him my perfect dream, and when that too turns on me it's going to destroy me.

I'm bracing myself for it.

The bell rings, loud and shrill. I bite my lip nervously and gather up the books. Jared steps right in front of me as soon as I start to brush past his desk.

"Wait," he says gently.

"Okay." I look down at my feet and he sighs. One hand reaches out, and Jared's burning fingers gently pull my chin up. _Geez, _he's hot. He must have a fever.

"Kim, look. I've… I haven't ever… noticed you before… but… right now… I don't know how I could have missed you all this time. I look at you and… do you know you're beautiful?"

My face floods with heat. I try to pull away, look away.

"No, don't be embarrassed. I… I'm really sorry for how long it took me to see what was right in front of me. But… I want… Look. Are you doing anything on Friday?"

My entire body tenses up, my arms and legs and torso shaking. I close my eyes for an instant and then I'm staring at him for an instant while his black eyes look into my soul. "I… no." I wait for him to say something along the lines of, 'Of course not, it's not like you have a boyfriend.' I wait.

"Do you…" he stops and takes a breath. I can see his shoulders shake-- it's a ragged breath, and he trembles visibly. "Do you want to go to Port Angles with me, go to dinner, watch a movie, maybe take a walk on First Beach and watch the sunset?"

I laugh. "Do you know, I've never actually been to see the sunset there?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've lived in La Push my whole life but I have to be home by four-thirty if I'm out alone. My mom."

"Oh." He hesitates. "Will she mind this?"

"No… she wants me to…" I feel somewhat compelled to confess this to him. "She's always wanted me to have a boyfriend. She'll be really happy."

"Will you come? Please?"

He sounds so ridiculously desperate. I laugh again. "Of course."

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	5. Chapter 5

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Jared pops up outside my English class at the end of the day. He's there before the bell rings, smiling hopefully.

"Hey, Jared," I say, trying not to sound _too _enthusiastic.

He obviously doesn't have the same problem. "Hi Kim!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well…" he stops, tries to figure out how to phrase it. "I was wondering if you wanted a ride home. I just got this car a while ago and I thought, since it's kind of raining, you probably didn't want to walk. I figured… I'd be happy to drive you there. And then maybe I could talk to your mom, you know, about Friday?"

"That would be great!"

"But you thinks she'll agree?" he asks anxiously.

I nod. "I'm all but sure. Like I said… you know, just the other night she was yelling at me because I didn't have a boyfriend."

"What?" His eyes widen, his arms start to tremble. "That's ridiculous!"

"Yeah, I get in trouble a lot. Mom's kind of a perfectionist."

"She can't take things like that out on you!" he hisses, fury in his eyes.

I put a hand on his arm- he's burning hot. "Calm down, Jared. It's all right."

"No, it…" he breaks off suddenly, and looks down at his own trembling arm. "Oh, God. I'm really sorry, Kim. I didn't mean to freak out like that, I…"

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't. Listen, you… you have to understand this. I have… I'm going to explain this in more detail later, like when I have the guts, but I have a temper, a bad one. I… my friend Sam has the same problem, and he really hurt someone very important to him once. If you see me shaking like that, Kim, you have to tell me I'm freaking out. _I don't want to hurt you._"

"You won't. Not unless…" I wince and change the thought. I don't want to reveal just how desperate I am to keep him near me, not when he apparently noticed I exist for the first time this afternoon.

"Unless what?"

I shake my head, praying he'll drop it. He doesn't.

"Kim, you can tell me."

There's something in the way he says my name, infusing it with this incredible kind of tenderness, and the way he sounds so sure that I _can _trust him… I find the truth spilling out.

"Not unless you leave. I know that sounds psychotic and possessive since we've only been going out since this morning- are we going out? I'm sorry, I guess it was actually just that one date. But anyway, yeah, I'm totally in love with you and have been for about three years, and now I'm making a total fool of myself but I just thought you should know…" I trail off, blushing furiously. Diarrhea of the brain. I honestly did _not _mean to say that, but sometimes… well, I didn't mean to say any of that. And now I really wish there was a convenient hole for me to crawl into and die but since there isn't I am just going to stand here, blush furiously, and dig my fingernails into my palm to keep myself from running away.

Well, he's going to be sprinting in the other direction _now, _that's for sure. I just scared the crap out of him, hell, I scared _myself _with my creepy stalkerishness.

"Ah… sorry about that."

He seems to be having trouble talking. I don't blame him, since I can't think very well either. Shame is kind of clouding my brain.

"_Three years?_" His voice sounds strangled.

I bite my lip. "Yeah."

"And I never noticed?"

"No." Now I'm mildly confused, since he isn't running off. He looks almost guilty.

"Come on, _please, _Kim. Come with me. Let me give you that ride. Let me talk to you."

"Umm… sure."

He grins. My heart misses a beat and then my brain starts to hurt. I'm _way _too confused to consider why he's doing all this, so I'm not going to bother trying to think.

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	6. Chapter 6

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He drives a light blue, tiny sedan. It seems like he'll barely fit in it, but he manages. Jared opens the door for me, and I sit in the passenger seat, swiftly buckling myself in.

He smiles at me. "I was planning on leaving the explanation until our date, Kim, but… actually, you know, maybe we should wait. I want to be able to enjoy at least the one evening with you, and I'm not sure you're going to want to speak to me after this is over."

"I'm sure," I whisper. "Again, not to totally freak you out, but I don't think there's much you could say that could scare me away." I wonder what it is. A possessive ex-girlfriend, a bad habit, a weird home situation? It can't be enough to keep me away from Jared. Nothing could do that.

"I want to talk about you, just for the ride home. What street do you live on?"

"Wentworth Street."

"Near the Atearas?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Right next to them."

He starts the car. The engine grumbles in complaint. It's not a new car, but I'm surprised he has one at all. Not a lot of kids here can afford them. "So, I have a question, Kim. You've liked me for three years?"

"Yeah." I blush again, furiously, and he shakes his head. Jared raises his hand slowly and brushes the back of his fingers against my cheek, his other hand still on the wheel.

His skin burns. I remember that from before. His body heat is way too high, and it's oddly pleasant. He should be dead, with that kind of fever, but it's just comforting to feel the warmth as he touches my face softly. _So _softly, like he's afraid he'll break me. He leans towards me, and takes his eyes off the road for one second to lean in and whisper into my ear. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Kim."

He whirls back to look at the road, careful to drive safely. "Yeah, there is. I mean, you've never spoken to me before today."

"Really? Not once?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell me, Kim? You could have tried to talk to me, you know. You shouldn't have just waited for me to stop being an idiot… it took me a while."

He laughs a little, at himself, and I reply. "Well, I'm kind of insecure. I didn't want to… I didn't want you to laugh at me. And I knew you wouldn't say yes. Well…" I stop, think. "I thought I knew, anyway."

"Kim." He's smiling. "I don't know why I was blind before today, but now I can see. And I'll explain tomorrow, after dinner, and thank you so much for agreeing to go with me. You… you don't know what it means."

I smile. "You don't know what it means to me, either, that you asked. That you noticed. No one notices me."

"I do. I always will." He straightens up, embarrassed, and says, "I think we're here."

He parks the car in my driveway, and then jumps out and around to help me get out. Casually, he takes my hand as I lead him toward the house.

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	7. Chapter 7

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"Mom?" I call out. She tumbles down the stairs, laundry spilling from her hands, a lecture on her lips.

"You're six minutes late, Kim. I was worried abou…"

She cuts off abruptly. There's a dull thud as she drops the laundry, letting it fall to the ground.

Obviously, she's noticed I'm not alone.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" she demands.

"Jared, this is my mom."

"Call me Jen. All Kim's friends do."

All my friends? Since when do I have friends?

"Nice to meet you, Jen." He extends his hand and smiles. It's a very winning expression. His teeth shine like pearls against his skin. "I'm Jared Tajeva. I'm Kim's boyfriend."

I choke. Okay, so I like the idea of it. I _really _like the idea of it. That particular statement may have featured heavily in more than one daydream in the past, but still. He can't just _say _it like that. In front of my _mother. _I'm tempted to clamp my hand over his mouth and whisk him from the room.

Mom smiles. "I've never heard of you before." She raises an eyebrow and looks over at me. "Kim, darling, why didn't you tell me about this boy?" The emphasis on the words 'this boy' is promising. She sounds approving. I almost forgive Jared when I realize that.

"Um, because he asked me out this morning?"

Jared winces. And then plasters the smile back on his face. He's obviously trying very, very hard to win my mom over. "I wanted to come meet you. I asked Kim to go out with me this Friday. We were going to go have dinner down in Port Angeles. Is that all right with you?"

Crap. He's _good _at this. _I_ can't handle my mother half this skillfully, and I've lived with her for almost eighteen years.

Mom smiles again, trying to hide the abject shock on her face. Oh, _that's _flattering. Yes, I actually have a date. Don't look so surprised. Aren't you supposed to believe in me or something along those lines?

I sigh.

"Of course, Jared. Should I drop her off at your house?"

Yes, thanks, Mom. Let's rub in the fact that you said yesterday that I'm 'not mature enough to get my license yet' and that you're going to have to ferry me to my date. My first date with the guy I'm completely in love with. My first date _ever, _as a matter of fact.

"I'll come pick her up, if that's okay."

"It's fine," I agree quickly. I don't look over at Mom for confirmation, because I'm starting to feel slightly objectified here. I don't really want my mom and my boyfriend (I'll flail all over that concept later, trust me) haggling over the terms of my date. I'd like to get some input, if it's all the same to everyone else.

"All right. I should probably head home, Jen." He takes my hand for one second. "Goodbye, Kim. See you tomorrow." Then he lifts the hand and presses it to his lips before he lets me go, disappearing out the door with almost chilling speed.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I watch him walk away.

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